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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716984">When Harry met Bentley</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomed_spectacles/pseuds/doomed_spectacles'>doomed_spectacles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Cute, Dogs, Extremely low stakes romance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Fluff, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:07:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomed_spectacles/pseuds/doomed_spectacles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks fly when the black sheep of the dog park is caught in a sudden storm with a stubborn bookseller and his basset hound.<br/>Or,<br/>Harry, a sleepy basset hound who loves pets and sunbeams, meets Bentley, a former racing greyhound who struggles to put the days of zooming (and anxiety) behind her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>GO Meet-Cutes</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I dunno, y'all. I just love dogs, okay</p><p>&lt;3 </p><p>All dogs are Good Dogs.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh great,” Miss Cartwright said, “it's <em>him</em>.”</p><p>Miss Jones faced the dog park entrance and groaned. “Ugh, well I'm about done anyway. Don’t want to stay here too long with <em>that</em> beast.” She gathered her purse and water bottle, then picked up the tiny chihuahua at her feet. It responded by futilely waving its paws in the air and growling.</p><p>“Who are we talking about then, dears?” Aziraphale asked.</p><p>Miss Cartwright nodded to a man walking to the back corner of the park’s enclosure. “Tight-pants over there. He usually comes on Wednesdays, not sure why he’s here today.”</p><p>Aziraphale followed her gaze. Oh. “I see. His trousers are rather, well, yes, I see,” he stammered. The man’s trousers were unforgivably tight. He was dressed in all black and had the brightest red hair he’d ever seen, on any man or woman. Aziraphale took a deep breath and a second glance at the legs in those trousers.</p><p>“Ugh, his dog is the worst.” Miss Jones admonished her still-growling little creature, appropriately named Baby, then gestured to Miss Cartwright. “Are you coming?”</p><p>“Why is that? I don’t even see a dog with him?” Aziraphale made no move to get up from his position on the bench. He did, however, place a bookmark carefully in the center of <em>The Maiden of Bright Heath Manor</em> and reach down to pat Harry on the head. Harry sighed but otherwise remained still.</p><p>“It’s that black blur running laps around the place.” Miss Cartwright pointed at a whirlwind of sleek black fur. “Greyhound.”</p><p>“Ah.” The greyhound was happily chasing nothing in circles around the perimeter of the park. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a sense of amusement at the dog’s abundance of energy, though he was equally thankful his dog had rather the opposite disposition. Harry let out a little groan and rolled onto his side, effectively using Aziraphale’s feet as a pillow.</p><p>Miss Jones was not impressed. “It just runs in circles and then barks nastily at any dog or human that comes near it. Obnoxious, just like its owner.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s lips pressed together firmly but he kept his smile intact. “I was under the impression that running and barking are the exact behaviors one expects at a dog park, but perhaps I’m mistaken.”</p><p>“That’s all very well and good for you to say, Mr. Fell, your Harry doesn’t do anything!” Both women laughed and didn’t seem to notice the smile creeping ever wider on his face.</p><p>“My Harry can do a great many things. If he so chooses, he can run and bark and play. He’s quite strong, you know. He simply-” Aziraphale paused and looked down at the large basset hound, happily drooling on his loafer. “He simply chooses not to.” </p><p>“Ha! Bye Mr. Fell!” Baby let out a series of snarls at him as the women left.</p><p>“Goodbye dears,” he said. Harry let out a deep woof that Aziraphale recognized as the sound of a deeply asleep dog smelling something interesting in his dreams. “Quite,” he said to the dog. “We can make our own fun, can’t we?”</p><p>Harry didn’t reply.</p><p>When the rain came several minutes later, Aziraphale sighed and muttered a quick “balderdash” under his breath. He stowed his book safely in his satchel, which had a rain-proof liner that should protect it from damage until he was able to return home. From it, he retrieved his umbrella and Harry’s raincoat. Harry didn’t fuss as Aziraphale fastened the little yellow coat’s straps around his waist and chest. He looked at Aziraphale with sleepy eyes and blinked slowly before letting out a sneeze. Time to go home and put on the kettle, then.</p><p>A handful of dog owners had retreated under the awning covering the only other bench in the park. They huddled together and laughed while their dogs ran about in the rain. The sky overhead had turned dark in an abrupt change from the morning’s cheery summer sunshine. </p><p>Standing alone in the middle of the park, the red-haired man was soaked. He pulled his jacket tight around his thin frame and hugged his body. His hair fell in wet chunks over his face, dripping water down his cheeks. He looked miserable. </p><p>(His dog, however, was ecstatic. She ran in circles around the man, splashing in puddles and jumping enthusiastically.)</p><p>Aziraphale approached cautiously. Harry plodded alongside, trying to stay under the umbrella's shelter. His droopy ears dripped onto the soggy grass.</p><p>The man scowled. He glanced at the group under the awning. They were all studiously looking away, making a show of not seeing the lone, soaked man. He was still wearing sunglasses, though they were beaded with moisture and a little foggy.</p><p>Aziraphale stood by the man's side. He lifted his eyebrows and the umbrella.</p><p>Neither spoke.</p><p>The rain continued.</p><p>Harry sat down by Aziraphale's feet, looking out at the exploits of half a dozen wet dogs. The smell of the city beyond the park brightened. It didn't disappear. The rain didn't wash away the exhaust fumes and food stall smells and the odor of several million people. But it lightened. It added a layer of petrichor that felt refreshing to the nose and the soul. Aziraphale breathed in fully. Beside him, the stranger sighed.</p><p>Just as suddenly as it had come, the rain stopped.</p><p>“Well, that’s that, then,” the man said, after a beat.</p><p>“Indeed.” </p><p>Neither moved. Aziraphale held the umbrella aloft, finding himself unwilling to break the moment and not sure why. He said softly, more to himself than anything, “<em>I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth</em>.”</p><p>Beside him, the man scoffed. He was slightly taller than Aziraphale and, dripping wet, looked like a black string bean that had been left in the bottom of a colander after a good rinse. His lip curled into a sneer. “God needed a rainbow as a reminder not to drown everyone again? Note to self, don’t wipe out the human race. <em>How kind</em>.”</p><p>Aziraphale let out a bark of laughter, then felt as though he shouldn’t have. Laughing at God was not something he made a habit of doing. He lowered his umbrella and fussed with the strap. Harry yawned and shook the water from his long, floppy ears.</p><p>The man shoved his hands in his pockets. They didn't at all fit.</p><p>“Off you pop,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sure you‘ve got loads of unfriendly strangers to shelter under your wing. Ladies to untie from trains. Puddles to put your coat over.” His voice was mocking but not nearly as unkind as his words made themselves out to be.</p><p>“These days, the ladies untie themselves, I’m afraid.”</p><p>The man snorted. “Quite right, too. Well. I don’t need a guardian angel over my shoulder, either.” He sniffed. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he thought it made him seem casual or if he was genuinely cold.</p><p>“I suspect not,” he replied. “Still, one may come in handy. If you dash your foot against a stone, they shall bear you up in their hands. Or so the Psalms would lead us to believe.”</p><p>“Mmm, <em>He shall give his angels charge over you</em>. Sounds a bit too Big Brother to me. Pass.”</p><p>Aziraphale found himself grinning. Who in the world was this man? “Any angel who had <em>you</em> in their charge might grow weary of keeping you in all your ways. He might up and quit the job.”</p><p>The man stuck his tongue in his cheek to keep from smiling but his mouth didn’t cooperate. His face tried very hard to both smile and not smile, which had the effect of making him look desperately cheeky and younger than he was.</p><p>They both looked out at the soggy park full of frolicking dogs and wet humans, unwilling to budge. The sky had cleared, revealing an uninterrupted brilliant blue expanse with exactly zero rainbows. </p><p>The red-haired man cleared his throat. He said, “Might not mind being trampled underfoot, though, depending on the foot that’s doing the trampling.”</p><p>He turned, exposing the other side of his face. Just under his right ear was a tattoo in the form of a coiled serpent. Aziraphale felt flushed and, suddenly, entirely flustered. <em>Oh dear Lord</em> — not only had the stranger jumped easily with him from Genesis to Psalms, but he’d also cast himself in the role of the snake. He even had the tattoo to match. What sort of conversation with what sort of man <em>was</em> this?</p><p>Before Aziraphale could respond, the man turned. He whistled to his wiry greyhound, who hadn’t stopped running circles around the park. The dog joined him and they both sauntered towards the exit. Without looking back, he threw a wave over his shoulder and said, “See you around, angel.”</p>
<hr/><p>Mr. Edwards had just unintentionally insulted the honor of Miss Prudence by implying that the horse she’d chosen as a sire to her mare was of an inferior breed when a hand waved over the pages of his book. Aziraphale knitted his eyebrows and looked to see who’d intruded on his sojourn in the windswept plains surrounding Bright Heath Manor. <em>Oh</em>. It was the red-haired man he’d tried (and failed) to keep out of his thoughts for the past week.</p><p>“Heya, angel,” the man said. He was wearing the same sunglasses and a very similar black outfit from last week. He wasn’t carrying anything, seeming to have learned absolutely nothing about the unpredictable summer weather from last week’s umbrella fiasco. “Whatcha reading?”</p><p>He grinned in a way that made it clear he knew <em>exactly</em> how annoying that question was.</p><p>“A book,” Aziraphale replied. He made a show of returning to his place in the text. He even brought out the little reading spectacles that he didn’t need just now in the bright sun of midday. Aziraphale placed them primly on his nose and pointedly didn’t look at the thin grinning man leaning on the bench at an odd angle next to him.</p><p>Just as he was wondering if he’d actually have to read a few paragraphs instead of silently wondering what the stranger would do, an enormous black dog came whooshing towards them. It ran straight towards Harry, who was sunning his belly in a patch of grass that had become his favorite spot in the whole of the park.</p><p>Aziraphale didn’t have time for an “oh dear” before the black greyhound reached Harry’s spot. She stopped short, halting with a grace Aziraphale had to admire. He held his breath as the dog sniffed, first up in the air, then in Harry’s personal business. Next to him, the man hovered, also paused, staring at the dogs.</p><p>Harry lifted his head slowly, let out a tired woof, then hauled himself up. He took his turn sniffing the greyhound’s posterior, needing to crane his neck to reach it. Both humans took an anticipatory breath in when the greyhound bent forward in a play bow. Harry stared at her, nonplussed. The greyhound sprung up, leaping in circles around the recalcitrant hound, yipping and barking excitedly.</p><p>Next to him, the man started. He moved to interrupt the pair but Aziraphale put a hand on his arm and said, “Wait.”</p><p>The greyhound barked loudly, garnering concerned glances from the other humans nearby. Aziraphale could hear their quiet murmuring and could feel the man next to him growing uncomfortable.</p><p>“Sorry, I’ll just-” he muttered, putting his head down and stalking towards the large, excited dog. Nearby, the murmurings took on a relieved tone as it appeared the dog would be subdued.</p><p>Before he could reach them, Harry let out a deep woof and plopped back down in his spot. The greyhound danced around him a few more times, circling the reclining hound, before arranging herself in a sprawl next to him. She kicked her legs a few times, twisting on her back in the grass and looking over at Harry, who blinked but otherwise didn’t move. Seeming to find a suitable position, she sighed and closed her eyes.</p><p>The man stopped short.</p><p>“Well that went down like a-”</p><p>“Quite well, I’d say,” Aziraphale said, coming to stand next to him. Miss Prudence and her mares had been forgotten, bookmark in place. He gestured to the sleepy hound, now totally ignoring the squirming black dog beside him. “This is Harry.”</p><p>“Bentley.” The man coughed. “Like, uh, the car.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled.</p><p>“Because she’s, um, fast.” He again tried to jam his hands into his pockets and failed.</p><p>“I studied magic under a rather amazing tutor,” Aziraphale said. He clasped his hands in front of his body and smiled at the memory. “He taught me how to pull ‘Harry the rabbit’ out of many a top hat. Our rabbits were always named Harry, for some reason.”</p><p>The man looked at him, incredulous but hanging on every word. “And?”</p><p>“And I’m afraid I was rather suddenly expelled from class when my brand-new basset hound got hold of one of the Harrys.” Aziraphale giggled. “He’s named in memory of the unfortunate bunny. Couldn’t get it out of his jaws. No more top hats for <em>that</em> Harry.”</p><p>When he’d finished giggling, Aziraphale glanced at the man. His jaw was open, mouth hanging wide in astonishment. His eyebrows were pushed together but they looked like they weren’t sure whether to be joined in concern, amusement, or horror.</p><p>“If you try to pull a coin from my ear, angel, I’ll-”</p><p>“You’ll what?”</p><p>“I’ll-” The man made several noises that sounded like his words had been put through a blender, then poured into a mold. When they reappeared, reconstituted, they weren't quite words anymore. “You’ll-”</p><p>He was saved by Bentley, who’d had enough napping. She trotted over to the man and sat at his feet, lovingly staring up at him as if she expected him to give her the world. He looked down at her as if he would. Aziraphale found himself, for the first time in his adult life, jealous of a dog.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><b>Genesis 9:13</b> (King James)<br/>I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.</p><p><b>Psalm 91</b> (New King James cuz it switches dragon to serpent)<br/>No evil shall befall you,<br/>Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;<br/>For He shall give His angels charge over you,<br/>To keep you in all your ways.<br/>In their hands they shall bear you up,<br/>Lest you dash your foot against a stone.<br/>You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra,<br/>The young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're back! Now with stakes! Very, very low stakes. I didn't think to make this clear before but I'm doing so now: no dogs will be harmed or otherwise in distress in any way during this little story. &lt;3</p><p>Now then. I love any and all Harry and Bentley interpretations but in my head <a href="https://www.wallpaperflare.com/closeup-photo-of-adult-white-and-tan-basset-hound-lying-on-ground-during-daytime-wallpaper-115544">THIS</a> is Harry and <a href="https://500px.com/photo/243657781/greyhounds-make-greyt-pets-by-elke-vogelsang">THIS</a> is Bentley.</p><p>Also! I added a chapter. What is planning, even. As I was writing chapter two, an epilogue formed in my mind. I'll add it at the same time as chapter three. (It's ridiculously cute.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The man arranged himself on the opposite side of Aziraphale’s usual bench. </p><p>Over the course of several weeks, they’d slowly progressed from brief chats while standing on the small mound at the back of the park to strolling together around the perimeter, their bodies shifting closer and further away as they learned each other’s rhythms. Aziraphale preferred a casual stroll with frequent stops, causing his walking partner to keep going several steps then halt, awkwardly gyrating his hips in a way that Aziraphale wasn’t sure was anatomically necessary. Then he’d saunter back, casually, as if he hadn’t made an abrupt about-face but had planned the sudden pivot all along. </p><p>Aziraphale pointed out his favorite features of the park while they walked and for each one, the man found something to complain bitterly about. They argued constantly. About every subject. Aziraphale looked for that brilliant shock of red hair every time he entered the park and found himself sullen when it wasn’t there.</p><p>(Harry also preferred casual strolls with frequent stops. He kept pace with Aziraphale, trotting on stubby legs and swaying his large head from side to side. His long ears swung to and fro as he walked, occasionally touching the ground. Harry sniffed. He scrutinized certain spots along the dirt path that wound around the park and, like the good hound he was, found every pile of excrement that hadn’t been picked up by the other owners. When scolded, Harry left them alone and Aziraphale dutifully scooped the poop with a sigh.)</p><p>(Bentley ran.) </p><p>Today, they sat.</p><p>What the red-haired man did with his limbs and how he did it, Aziraphale couldn’t say. Aziraphale’s mind encountered an error when he tried to categorize what his strange companion did in relation to the horizontal surface of the bench. It was not sitting. Slouching, perhaps. Or lounging. As if one could casually <em>lounge</em> on the splinter-filled slats of a hard wooden bench while the metal arm rest poked into one’s side. The handsome man in too-tight trousers looked as if he’d been poured, liquid, onto the bench from above and then solidified in position. </p><p>It was ridiculous. </p><p>It was the most endearing sprawl Aziraphale had ever seen.</p><p>They watched the dogs in the park playing for a few minutes in a comfortable silence. Bentley was still running laps around the perimeter, dodging other walkers and groups of rough-housing dogs with ease. Harry had found a suitable spot for a lie down and was, happily, lying down.</p><p>Aziraphale opened his satchel. Inside, he had a cellophane-wrapped plate, which he carefully set on his lap. At the sound of the crinkly wrapping, Harry’s floppy ears perked up. The cucumber sandwiches were no sooner exposed to the air than Harry was by Aziraphale’s side. His entire lower half was wagging along with his curved tail, brushing up little clouds of dust on each side of him. His brown eyes focused with a burning intensity on the plate and the dainty little sandwiches on it.</p><p>“Harry is very food-motivated,” Aziraphale said, matter-of-factly. He stole a sideways glance at his companion, who was giving him an amused glance over his usual sunglasses. With a wiggle of his shoulders, he added, “As am I.”</p><p>Aziraphale desperately wanted to see the man's reaction to that but he also didn't want him to know it. So he forced his eyes away from the man’s handsome face with a concerted effort. He casually took a nibble of one of his cucumber sandwiches. Harry let out a deep groan but otherwise remained in place.</p><p>“Now, now, Harry,” he said. “Patience is a high virtue, you know.”</p><p>“Mmm, I think if Harry could talk, he'd remind you that God giveth liberally and without reproach. Might also scold you for bringing Chaucer to the dog park.”</p><p>Aziraphale pursed his lips, partly for the effect he knew it would have on his companion and partly to keep from smiling. Some of his favorite moments of the past few weeks had been when the red-haired man picked up one of his expressions and volleyed it back at him, fully aware of what he’d been quoting.</p><p>“I daresay, my Harry would not.”</p><p>The man grinned, exposing a set of white teeth that were ever so slightly crooked. Like the rest of him, his smile was attractive, but in an offbeat, peculiar way. “You’re probably right. Your Harry, being an <em>angel’s</em> dog, wouldn’t dare.”</p><p>“Quite.” After an interminable period in which he could feel not only Harry's eyes on him but the man's as well, Aziraphale relented. Harry eagerly ate half a sandwich from Aziraphale’s palm before settling down at his side, sated.</p><p>Meanwhile, Bentley raced in a circle around their bench, once, twice, three times, before settling down in between Aziraphale’s feet and her master’s.</p><p>“Would you like a bite, little one?” Aziraphale asked, affecting the same voice he used when talking to Harry. Bentley sniffed curiously. “Oh, can she-?”</p><p>Crowley nodded.</p><p>“Here you are, my friend.” He reached down with a partially-eaten sandwich on his hand and, after a few sniffs, Bentley gobbled it down.</p><p>“She doesn't usually let anyone- I mean, she's a bit of an anxiety monster,” the man said, his voice hushed. “Normally. With everyone else.”</p><p>“Nonsense.” Aziraphale patted Bentley’s head gently, then scratched between her ears. She pressed her head into his hand insistently the moment it seemed as though he might stop.</p><p>“I mean it, angel. This dog does not come to anyone but-”</p><p>“But <em>you</em>, my dear.”</p><p>The man sniffed, making several noises that Aziraphale had come to recognize. These weren’t actually the precursors to words, they were just noises of disgruntlement that couldn’t be bothered to form into words. Aziraphale had cataloged the man’s noises, finding them both incredibly sweet and, at times, very annoying.</p><p>“It's nice, the way she adores you.”</p><p>“It's <em>not</em> nice.”</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>“It's not! She helps my image.” His companion folded his arms across his chest and looked over his sunglasses at Aziraphale. His expression was totally serious, which meant he was just waiting for Aziraphale to puncture his metaphorical balloon.</p><p>“Does she now.”</p><p>“Myeh,” the man said. “She helps me, uh, pick up, you know, chicks.”</p><p>Aziraphale met the man’s gaze through his sunglasses, and after a brief moment of restraint, both burst out laughing.</p><hr/><p>Bentley learned quickly. The sound of cellophane wrapping sent her careening towards the bench at speeds upwards of twenty miles per hour. She sat next to Harry and their tails wagged in perfect unison. The red-haired man scoffed. He complained. He ranted and raved about canine weight gain and how spoiled the anxious greyhound was becoming. He never once tried to stop Aziraphale from supplying Bentley with an equal share of treats.</p><p>“I'll tell you a secret, my sweet little Bentley,” Aziraphale said, leaning down to speak directly to the dog. “All dogs are good dogs.”</p><p>“Pfffft.” The man made a sound like air escaping from a balloon. </p><p>“Don't listen to him.”</p><p>“You are ridiculous. I don't know why I talk to you.”</p><p>Aziraphale ignored him. Bentley sniffed Harry’s behind, then shot off toward the fence like a rocket. “They are. All dogs are good dogs, of this I’m quite sure.” </p><p>“Every dog.”</p><p>“Every single one.”</p><p>“That one?” The man nodded towards a shepherd that was loping toward its master, tongue out, enthusiastically running through every puddle of mud it could find.</p><p>“Good dog,” Aziraphale said, feeling his eyes crinkle as he smiled at the muddy canine. Its owner was shaking her head, lamenting the future state of her car’s backseat.</p><p>“What about that one?” He pointed at a mixed breed that was standing just outside a ring of dogs, barking insistently at the others, who weren’t playing with her.</p><p>“Yes, a very good dog.”</p><p>“Oh come on, really? She’s so loud.” </p><p>“All dogs are good,” Aziraphale replied, sure he was right. “If they seem not to be, they simply haven't had the opportunity to be good. With the right human.”</p><p>The man scowled but didn’t reply for a long moment, seeming to consider. Finally, he straightened and Aziraphale could see the beginnings of a smug grin taking over the corners of his mouth. “Okay, let's put your theory to the test. You ready?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Him.” He pointed to a dog humping the leg of a perplexed man, while, nearby, his owner stared at his phone.</p><p>“Good dog not being properly supervised.”</p><p>“And that one?” He gestured towards a medium-sized Weimaraner with a tree branch in his mouth that was at least four times as long as he was.</p><p>“Excellent dog,” Aziraphale replied. “I didn't say all dogs were <em>smart</em>, I said they were <em>good</em>.” He looked over at his companion with a satisfied look.</p><p>“Fine. The ultimate test of your theory. Ready?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded smugly.</p><p>“Baby,” he said with a wicked grin. “The killer chihuahua. Ready to tear someone's face off. Is Baby a <em>good dog</em>?”</p><p>Aziraphale opened his mouth but nothing came out. He took a deep breath. “Well-” </p><p>The man threw back his head and let out a bark of laughter that sounded like the honk of a goose that had gotten high on laughing gas. Aziraphale giggled, slapping his thighs with his hands, until his eyes were watering and he couldn’t see straight.</p><p>“You win, angel. Cheers to Baby the killer chihuahua and all the good dogs in the world.”</p><p>“Indeed.” Aziraphale smiled. The sun shone down on them but it wasn’t overbearing. Aziraphale couldn’t think of anything that could make the afternoon more pleasant. Then, the man proffered a silver flask. “Oh, goodness, you were serious!”</p><p>“Hell yeah,” he said, wicked grin back in place. “Bottoms up.”</p><p>Aziraphale took a drink from the flask, then choked as a very strong liquor made its way down his throat. It scorched on the way down, then lit a small fire in his belly.</p><p>“Not to your taste, angel?” The man sneered. His voice had that mocking quality that made Aziraphale want to punch him. Or kiss him. He could never quite tell which.</p><p>He mulled it over. “Hmm. Hard, fast, and with a bit of an aftertaste,” he said. Aziraphale handed the flask back and waited until the red-haired man had taken his own swig of the drink. “On the contrary, my dear, that’s just how I like it.”</p><p>The man choked, sputtering and wiping stray drops from his chin.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled broadly.</p><hr/><p>“You’re most welcome, my dear!” Aziraphale said, shaking the woman’s hand enthusiastically. “I’m certainly glad you brought it to me. It was quite an honor to get my hands on such a rare edition!”</p><p>He heard a familiar voice behind him, and sure enough, the red-haired man was sauntering across the park, with Bentley the greyhound running in rapid circles around his legs. “There you are. Was wondering if you’d dumped me for a girl with a book.”</p><p>“No! I would never-” Aziraphale cleared his throat, suddenly aware of what he’d almost revealed. And what he’d assumed. “Well. No. That is- Ms. Device found a book that belonged to an old relative and I was rather excited to price it for her. It’s quite valuable.”</p><p>“Is that what you do? Antiques Roadshow for old books people find in their cellars?” They set off on their usual walk around the park, with Bentley trotting alongside her person and Harry taking up the rear.</p><p>“Not exactly,” Aziraphale said. “I run a bookshop. Occasionally I price antiques but that’s more of a hobby.”</p><p>“You? Run a bookshop? Color me surprised.” Aziraphale pursed his lips and didn’t reply. “I’m teasing, angel, it’s just- it suits you.”</p><p>He smiled to show the man he was forgiven. “I do find them hard to let go of, though.”</p><p>“Them? The books?”</p><p>“Yes, the books.” The man’s eyebrows raised and he chuckled, not bothering to hide it. “Laugh if you want, dear. What do <em>you</em> do? Railroad tycoon? Robber baron? Purveyor of snake oil to unsuspecting old ladies?”</p><p>“Nyek, nah, I-” He ran a hand through his lovely red hair and seemed suddenly a bit nervous. Aziraphale wondered if he hadn’t just accidentally stepped into forbidden conversational territory. “I have a website.”</p><p>“Oh? Is that all? I do too, though I can’t recall the last time I visited. I did a bit of Netscaping and set myself up a site.”</p><p>“Angel- that’s-” The man stuttered, then seemed to lose steam. “Oh, angel, no. It’s not the same.”</p><p>“What, then?”</p><p>“It’s a news site. And entertainment. Articles. It’s all bullshit, really. Content.” He jammed his hands in his pants pockets but only succeeded in getting two fingers to stay. The man swung his legs as he walked, kicking at rocks on his path as if they’d personally offended him. “But the content, the words, pictures, they’re just cover to get eyeballs on advertising. My site is really good at making people click on ads for things they really, really don’t need.”</p><p>“Ah. Well, that’s-”</p><p>“-demonic.”</p><p>“-obnoxious.”</p><p>They looked at each other, then broke into a fit of laughter at Crowley’s expense.</p><p>As they settled on their usual bench, Aziraphale said, “So <em>you’re</em> to blame for no one having the attention span long enough to read a book?”</p><p>“Possibly, yeah. Guilty as charged.” He didn’t sound guilty, exactly, but perhaps a little chagrined.</p><p>“If I enjoyed selling books, I might be cross.”</p><p>“Good thing you don’t, then, eh, angel?”</p><p>“Indeed.” He didn’t bother to hide his smile and neither did the red-haired man sitting on the other side of the bench. </p><p>It was a small moment but Aziraphale wanted to live in it. His dog park chats with this strange man had become pieces of his life that he held closely, next to his heart, in a place where he treasured the little things that filled his days with joy. Harry, racing to the kitchen to steal a bit of food that had dropped to the floor. A good cup of cocoa on a rainy day. The smiles of passersby when he decorated the store’s front for the holidays. And now, every afternoon spent ambling around a city dog park with a man and his greyhound.</p><hr/><p>There was a crowd gathered at the entrance to the park. As they approached the entrance, Harry pulled on his lead. Aziraphale murmured an ineffective reproach to the hound, who settled as soon as he reached the gaggle of dogs and people outside the gate. Bentley jumped in the air with excitement and whipped her tail back and forth when she spotted them.</p><p>“Bad news, angel.”</p><p>“What’s going on?” Aziraphale couldn’t decipher the meaning of the storm clouds that had appeared on the man’s face but he didn’t like the look of them. He looked actually, <em>truly</em> grumpy. Not the usual sort of grump that hid behind it a grin or a wink or a sly smile.</p><p>“They’re closing the park. Selling the whole lot to a developer. We’ve got till the end of the month.”</p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said, not sure what else to say. </p><p>Without the dog park, his tenuous connection to this man was gone. There’d be no more walks. No more conversations on the bench. No more impromptu picnics. And Bentley. The excitable, anxious dog who inexplicably loved Harry and cucumber sandwiches wouldn’t be a part of his life anymore, either. </p><p>Aziraphale felt an intense wave of indignation come over him at the idea of this future coming to pass. He didn’t even know the man’s name but he couldn't bear the thought of not knowing him at all.</p><p>“My dear, I-”</p><p>“Crowley. Name’s Crowley, angel.”</p><p>“Crowley, I-” Aziraphale put a hand to his chest, unsure what his next words would be. </p><p>Thankfully, the man ducked his head. He put on a grin that didn’t exactly hide his own unhappiness, and said, “We’ve still got two weeks, eh?”</p><p>“Indeed. Shall we?” Aziraphale opened the first gate, letting Harry and Bentley into the small enclosure. He released the clasp on Harry’s leash and followed the man — Crowley — into the park.</p><p>Two weeks. </p><p>It wasn’t enough. Aziraphale knew, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that an entire lifetime of trading barbs and smiles and cucumber sandwiches wouldn’t be enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><b>Chaucer, The Franklin’s Tale</b><br/>He who in love maintains his patience best<br/>Has the advantage over all the rest;<br/>For patience is a high virtue, to be sure...</p><p><b>James 1:5</b> (King James)<br/>If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.</p><p><b>Netscaping</b><br/>I feel ancient as I type this but Netscape Navigator was the first dominant Internet browser. Before It lost out to Internet Explorer, but its fall led to a major antitrust lawsuit against Microsoft.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A resolution! Now with 1000% more municipal zoning board content than any fanfiction should ever contain. I shan’t apologize! Please note I know nothing about municipal zoning and didn’t do any research beyond a cursory read-through of some of my city’s meeting transcripts. I hope your disbelief can be suspended for the sake of fluff.</p>
<p>Epilogue will be posted shortly.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale felt a tense knot of something uncomfortable settling in his stomach as he approached the park. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling — that knot of anxiety was something he’d lived with for many years — but it was unfamiliar <em>here</em>. This place was a refuge. He’d walked from the bookshop to the park with Harry for years, dodging zooming velocipedes and wedges of tourists wielding cameras. Harry knew the way as well as he did. Aziraphale suspected that if he let Harry off his lead, he’d trot straight to the park and wait patiently for him to catch up. The routine was ingrained in Harry’s canine brain as deeply as it was in him.</p>
<p>Today, he felt a sense of dread and loss as he approached the gate.</p>
<p>Harry, none the wiser, pulled him forward with the determination of a dog who knew what he liked and what he liked was the park.</p>
<p>From the other side of the gate, a child’s voice rang out. </p>
<p>“Hi Mr. Fell,” Adam shouted, waving his arms about. Adam moved like a growing child who has no idea what to do with his newly-long arms and legs. His terrier was digging ferociously in the sand next to Adam’s shoes.</p>
<p>“Hello Adam,” Aziraphale said. He inclined his head to the terrier, who didn’t pause in his pursuit of whatever was buried in the sand. “Hello Dog.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale waved to Adam’s friends but hastened to the other side of the park, not wanting to become involved in another one of their games. Last time, he’d been roped into an elaborate fantasy roleplay in which he inexplicably became imprisoned in the Bastille for crimes involving bread. He'd had vivid dreams for weeks afterwards in which he was either unable to plead his case due to insufficient French and beheaded, or rescued by a daring revolutionary in a rather fetching wig.</p>
<p>(And if, of late, Crowley had been appearing as said rescuer, that was between him and the Lord of Dreams.)</p>
<p>“Come now, Harry, let’s go see if your friend is here.”</p>
<p>Harry needed no encouragement. He loped along the path winding around the park with unusual vigor.</p>
<p>“Your friend,” Aziraphale repeated to himself. He'd been resisting labeling Crowley as a friend. It was easier that way. To pretend, when he was back in the bookshop alone, scratching the back of Harry's ears absently while he snoozed on the couch, that he wasn't lonely. That he didn't want to be more than acquaintances — more than friends, even.</p>
<p>Harry galloped ahead of him on the path, so fast that Aziraphale lost sight of him as he made his way over the mound at the back of the park he'd grown so attached to. When he caught up, Harry was standing tall with his head up, nose proudly in the air. His tail waved furiously.</p>
<p>“Ah, Bentley, hello,” said Aziraphale.</p>
<p>Bentley jumped in circles around Harry, barking and sniffing his privates while Harry panted with his mouth open in a wide smile. He bent down in a play crouch, then sprang back up and stood in place when Bentley called his bluff.</p>
<p>“Mister Harry is feeling frisky today, eh angel?”</p>
<p>Crowley sauntered over and stood next to him. He’d cut his hair since Aziraphale had seen him last. It was shorter, buzzed at the sides with a carefully-styled wave over to one side. Aziraphale had loved Crowley’s long hair but had never told him. Now he felt unsure whether he’d get the chance — or have the courage — to tell him how much he loved this new style.</p>
<p>He realized that he’d been staring and hadn’t responded. “Oh, yes, indeed it appears that way.”</p>
<p>Crowley tilted his head. “All right?”</p>
<p>“I'm sorry, dear. I'm not up to our usual tête-à-tête today.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” They stood in silence for a moment, both unsure what to say. Harry ambled over to his usual grassy spot and plopped down, belly up. Bentley followed him, gave him another sniff, then galloped back to Crowley. She ran in a tight circle around the pair of humans, then pushed her nose into Aziraphale’s hand.</p>
<p>“I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but I don’t have any sandwiches for you today.” Bentley kept pressing her nose into Aziraphale regardless, leaning the entirety of her eighty-pound weight into him.</p>
<p>Next to him, Crowley smiled. “‘S alright, angel. She knows what you smell like, sandwiches or no.”</p>
<p>“Indeed she does.” Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to meet Crowley’s eyes. “I’ve grown… terribly fond of this place.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Crowley’s voice was unbearably soft.</p>
<p>“I’ll miss how terrible Harry smells when I bring him home. And all the dogs who come sit at my feet and-” He felt the pressure of tears building between his eyes.</p>
<p>“I know, angel.”</p>
<p>“It's not right,” Aziraphale said. He pressed his lips together firmly, determined not to cry. It was just a park, after all. But of course, it wasn’t. He cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Adam over there, for instance. Where else will he go with his friends after school? He'll get into trouble, Crowley. Gangs and the like. They have sharks, you know.”</p>
<p>“I think that's a musical you're thinking of, angel-”</p>
<p>“It's just-”</p>
<p>Crowley interrupted him, his voice suddenly urgent but unsure. “Listen, if this place closes, we could go somewhere.”</p>
<p>“Go somewhere?”</p>
<p>“Another park. We can find a place.” Crowley’s eyes were covered by his sunglasses but the rest of his face showed how earnest his words were. The smirking, sneering, sarcastic Crowley was gone. “You, me, Harry and the old gal. What do you say?”</p>
<p>“I-” Aziraphale started. His hesitation must’ve shown in his face because Crowley cut him off.</p>
<p>“Just- think about it. We still have next week, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Next week, yes.”</p>
<p>When he and Harry left the park, the uncomfortable, churning feeling in his gut returned. But as they journeyed home, he felt it change into something else. A sense of calm determination came over him that felt wholly unfamiliar. Aziraphale made himself a cup of tea while Harry settled in his favorite place on the rug in front of the fire in his flat above the shop. When Harry started snoring a few minutes later, an idea had formed in Aziraphale’s mind.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He strode to the back of the park purposefully, leaving Harry behind. Aziraphale found Crowley sitting on his usual side of their bench and he sat down, turning to face him.</p>
<p>“I’ve written a letter.”</p>
<p>“Mmmm, you got a pen pal I should be jealous of, angel?” Crowley’s casual drawl had returned, but Aziraphale could tell there was tension hidden behind it.</p>
<p>“I- No! Crowley, nothing like that,” he said. “And besides we’re not- it doesn’t matter. I’ve written a letter to the city council.”</p>
<p>“Oh, very spicy.” Crowley grinned, baring his teeth and putting a suggestive hiss into his consonants. It was a voice that had come to drive Aziraphale mad, in more ways than one. “Nothing like a love letter to municipal government to get your blood racing.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale huffed, determined not to let Crowley’s needling distract him. “You’re making fun Crowley, but I’m trying to save the park!”</p>
<p>“You’re- oh angel, you can’t save the park,” said Crowley. “We need to find a new place to go.”</p>
<p>“I can! Crowley, I can.” Aziraphale’s hands fluttered about as he talked. He didn’t bother to try and control them. “I just have to get the zoning committee to listen. Look here, they need to do an environmental review, which they appear to have done a perfunctory job of and I intend to complain about that, but also-”</p>
<p>“What’s the headline, angel? Bite-sized bits of information, please, not a novel.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale took a deep breath. Harry had finally caught up with him and settled with his head on Crowley’s snake-skin boots. Aziraphale briefly wondered if they were real, then decided that of course they were. He hoped they wouldn’t be ruined by a bit of dog saliva but decided that was on Crowley for wearing such ridiculous shoes to a dog park. He focused.</p>
<p>“There’s still a public comment period before the park can be officially sold. After which, the board will consider feedback and decide whether to rezone the park for commercial use and let the sale go through. I’m confident that if I can just reach the right authorities, they’ll make the right decision and they won't close the park.” Aziraphale sat back, satisfied, but Crowley was staring at him with his arms crossed. He looked pained.</p>
<p>“That… won’t happen,” Crowley said. His voice wasn’t unkind but it was firm. “They won’t listen to you based on a letter, angel, no matter what it says.”</p>
<p>“Well then, I’ll call them up on the telephone.”</p>
<p>“You- it won’t work, angel.” Crowley shifted closer to him on the bench, careful not to move his feet and disturb the sleepy basset hound on them. “We need to find a new park.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s forehead creased in frustration. He retrieved the letter from his satchel and pressed it into Crowley’s hands. “It will work! You’ll see. Just because you don’t have any faith doesn’t mean I have to give up mine.”</p>
<p>“That’s not fair, angel.”</p>
<p>“Will you just read the letter?” he asked, trying not to focus on Crowley’s hands, which were separated from his only by a thin envelope. “I have a copy saved in my word processing machine.”</p>
<p>“In your- oh, angel,” Crowley said, then sighed. “Yeah, fine. I’ll read it. Can we just enjoy our last day at the park?”</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>They didn’t.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Aziraphale sat, alone save for two others, in the audience. At a long table in the front of the room facing him were seven board members with little paper placards showing their names and titles. In the center was a microphone whose long cord trailed down the table and pooled on the linoleum floor. As each speaker took their turn, the microphone was passed down the table like a dish at the last supper. The whole thing was rather low-tech in a way that pleased Aziraphale but also suggested a need for increased funding from the city.</p>
<p>He waited, hands in his lap, for the public comment portion of the hearing.</p>
<p>When called, Aziraphale stood, smoothed his coat, and strode to the podium that held the audience’s microphone. He’d brought a copy of his letter and had just begun to read it aloud when the doors flew open with a loud bang.</p>
<p>In strode Crowley, followed by a motley assortment of people Aziraphale vaguely recognized. He knew their faces but the context of seeing them here, in a drab municipal building instead of out in the sunshine, was deeply strange.</p>
<p>“Sorry to interrupt, angel, members of the board,” Crowley said. “But we have a few more people who’d like to comment.” He sauntered down the aisle in between the audience’s chairs, followed by Bentley. She trotted up to Aziraphale and pushed her head into his hand, ready to receive a head scratch. Aziraphale obliged, deeply confused.</p>
<p>“Crowley-”</p>
<p>“Excuse me, this is highly irregular-” the board chair said, standing and looking around as if trying to find a gavel to bang on the table. The transcriptionist looked over her glasses at the crowd but kept typing.</p>
<p>More dogs streamed into the room. Aziraphale recognized Adam’s terrier, Anathema’s German Shepherd, and many of the other park regulars.</p>
<p>Aziraphale turned to face Crowley, astonished. “What’s going on, Crowley?”</p>
<p>“That’s what I’d like to know,” said the chair. The other two members of the audience had stood. One, a man in a finely pressed suit, was demanding the board chair eject everyone from the hearing, and the other, a short person in a strangely-fitted dark suit was baring their teeth at the dogs and hissing.</p>
<p>“I had a feeling you’d be here, angel,” Crowley said, shoving his hands in his pockets. They actually fit this time. He was wearing an exquisitely-tailored suit with a red tie that complemented his hair. He sported a rakish grin and was so excited that he couldn’t seem to stay still. “Didn’t want to see you embarrassed, showing up here all by yourself. So I brought in reinforcements.” </p>
<p>Crowley pointed to Adam, who was chatting with his gang of friends. His parents stood nervously at the back of the room. “That’s our trump card.”</p>
<p>“Adam? I don’t understand.”</p>
<p>“I said no one was going to listen to you, angel, and I meant it. No one listens to stuffy middle-aged booksellers.”</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon!”</p>
<p>Crowley recoiled, making noises that sounded like an apology, if an apology were an onomatopoeia. “Fine. They won’t listen to an exceedingly handsome, <em>kind</em>, ridiculous, whip-smart bookseller who doesn’t sell any books. A man who talks like a Regency novel come to life and dresses like one, too.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale pursed his lips but didn’t respond, happy to let him continue. The room filled up with people and dogs of all shapes and sizes. The board chair was shouting into his microphone, which started screeching every time he did. The man in the nice suit was seething but seemed at a loss as to what to do about it. At the back of the room, a security guard was standing cautiously in between a dachshund and a corgi who’d gotten into a bit of a tussle.</p>
<p>Crowley continued. He was still wearing sunglasses, as usual, but Aziraphale didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was sincere. “These people — they don’t care about you, angel. They don’t care about Harry, who is the laziest dog I’ve ever met, by the way. They don’t care about our walks in the park when the sun shines and it feels like maybe the world is worth living in. They don’t care about chats on a bench or Chaucer or sandwiches that attract dogs like flies to honey.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale couldn’t have stopped the smile from blossoming on his face if he’d tried.</p>
<p>“But — god, I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” said Crowley. He bit his cheek, trying in vain not to smile back at Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Go on.” </p>
<p>“You’re a bastard, you know that, don't you.”</p>
<p>“I do,” Aziraphale said, clasping his hands in front of him.</p>
<p>Crowley rolled his eyes. Aziraphale could tell he did it behind his sunglasses because he rolled his entire head with them. “But <em>I</em> care. So I called in a few favors. These people may not care about you and me, but they sure as hell care about the avalanche of bad press they’ll get when they’ve bulldozed over a cute, curly-haired eleven-year-old’s favorite park.” He motioned for Adam to stand at the podium. </p>
<p>When Adam took his place at the head of the room, everyone sat down instinctively. Even the dogs settled next to their owners. Dog sat at Adam’s feet, looking up at his master for direction. The only ones left standing were the two people in suits. </p>
<p>Crowley sat next to Aziraphale. He pulled out his phone and called up a news article, then handed the phone to Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“This is my-”</p>
<p>“It was a good letter, angel. Just needed to reach a few more eyeballs. You’ve got about six thousand co-signers now, not to mention the likes and shares.”</p>
<p>“I won’t pretend to understand that last part, but-”</p>
<p>“Just trust me. Yeah?”</p>
<p>“I- I trust you, my dear,” Aziraphale said. As he handed the phone back, their hands touched briefly. “But- How did you get them to let the dogs in?”</p>
<p>Crowley nodded to the back of the room. “See the security guard? Clueless-looking chap with the grin on his face? Yeah. Well, um, Anathema may have agreed to go out with him.”</p>
<p>“She did? My goodness.” Aziraphale took a closer look. The young man was standing next to Anathema while her large shepherd sniffed indiscreetly at his crotch. “Was that before or after she got a look at him? He’s rather handsome, actually. And young, too. What if he’d been old, Crowley? Or gay?”</p>
<p>Crowley blew out a breath, puffing his cheeks in a way that made him look absolutely adorable and not at all cool. “Suppose I’d have had to step in and take one for the team, then.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale giggled, feeling a light giddiness bubbling up from inside him as the ridiculous scene unfolded. Crowley was smiling widely at him, still wearing sunglasses, as Bentley squeezed her long body in the space in between the meeting room chairs. She licked the denim of his trousers intently.</p>
<p>“Oh, here,” Crowley said when they’d both stopped laughing. He reached into his jacket and brought out his flask. “To the park.”</p>
<p>“You brought booze?”</p>
<p>Crowley took a drink. “Of course I did.”</p>
<p>“Well then,” Aziraphale replied, smiling as he took the flask, “to the park.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Public comment partial transcript:</p>
<ul>
<li>Adam Young, age 11</li>
<li>Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, age 11</li>
<li>Brian (surname unknown), age 12</li>
<li>Wensleydale, (given name unknown), age 11</li>
<li>R.P. Tyler, concerned citizen, age 63</li>
<li>Anathema Device, resident and owner of Device's Magical Gadgets, age 29</li>
<li>Gabriel Messenger, CFO Heavenly Capital Ventures, age 49</li>
<li>Beelz (surname and given name unknown), COO Perdition Development, age indeterminate</li>
</ul>
<p>“If you tear down the park, my friends and I won’t have any place to play.”</p>
<p>“And actually, that’s a bad thing.”</p>
<p>“He’s right, you know, it’s a bad thing when pre-teens don’t have a place to go after school.”</p>
<p>“We might get into drugs. And witchcraft. And socialism. We might even start a gang.”</p>
<p>“I thought we already started a gang?”</p>
<p>“Don’t tell them about that, it’s not relevant.”</p>
<p>“Listen here, young man, this lot has already been selected for zoning as a mixed-use commercial property. The combination food hall, luxury condo, bowling alley, and hair salon will not only be profitable, but it will bring a certain class of consumer to the area that is… currently lacking.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me, what does that mean? This area is home to many small businesses already. Are you saying that Device’s Magical Gadgets is low class? What about Madame Tracy? Are you talking about her?”</p>
<p>“What he means is that there are plans. Plans for the property that have already been written. This is merely a formality.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me, I’d like to speak. R. P. Tyler here, and as a longtime resident and chairman of the neighborhood watch for many years, I have a vested interest in the moral character of the youths. I won’t have them hanging about the streets, puffing on paint cans and lighting up their doozies.”</p>
<p>“I think you mean doobies.”</p>
<p>“You see! It’s starting already! If this plan goes ahead and wipes out the park, it’ll be the downfall of the entire borough! Not to mention, my Shutzi needs a place to stretch her legs.”</p>
<p>“Oh come on! Heavenly Capital Ventures has had plans for this lot for a very long time. You can’t just back out now! And besides- ah- I’m- ahchoo! Allergic! Who let those dogs in, anyway?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The bell in the door of A.Z. Fell &amp; Co. chimed but Aziraphale didn’t look up. He was engrossed in <em>Scandal at Bright Heath Manor</em> and the rakish James was just about to confess he’d taken the identity of the deceased Mr. Hawthorne in order to woo Miss Caroline. He resumed reading and only looked up when he heard a crash followed by a series of sounds instantly recognizable as words that had been caught in the trap between Crowley’s brain and his mouth.</p>
<p>“Crowley?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale emerged from the backroom to find Crowley leaning casually on a stack of books that definitely wouldn’t hold his weight. He had a fancy backpack of some sort on his shoulders and was dressed in his usual black trousers and a tailored jacket.</p>
<p>“Not here to buy a book, angel. Just uh, checking on Harry,” he said. The stack of books he’d been leaning on tumbled to the ground and he scrambled to pick them up. As he did, the backpack slid off his shoulders. Aziraphale heard the clink of glasses from inside it. </p>
<p>Crowley straightened and tried to shove one hand in his tiny pocket. He rocked back and forth on his heels. “Look, I know it’s not the park, but-”</p>
<p>He unzipped the backpack and showed its contents to Aziraphale. Inside was a bottle of champagne, two flutes, sandwiches wrapped in plastic, and what appeared to be a piece of rather flattened cake.</p>
<p>“I thought- well, you didn't actually tell me which bookstore you owned and I hauled this stuff to four places this morning, so work with me here? This was either a good idea or I’ve gone completely mad, so-”</p>
<p>“Stark raving,” Aziraphale said, then selected a sandwich from the bag. He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek, causing his face to turn as bright as his hair. “And an <em>excellent</em> idea.”</p>
<p>When he stepped back Crowley caught his elbow, keeping him close. They shared breaths for a moment, neither speaking. Slowly, Crowley lifted his sunglasses to his forehead, revealing the most beautiful brown eyes Aziraphale had ever seen. He smiled widely at Crowley, who smiled right back.</p>
<p>“Angel, I-” </p>
<p>Crowley’s lips had barely made contact with his when there was a loud crash from the shop’s backroom. </p>
<p>Then, a steady thumping as a seventy-five-pound basset hound woke from a dead sleep and galloped into the front room, crashing into Crowley’s legs. Harry plopped down at Aziraphale’s feet, gazing up at the food in his hand, his entire bottom half wiggling in excitement.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for reading this extremely silly cute story - I hope you enjoyed it! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[Epilogue]</p><p>Harry sat up and yawned, opening his great hound jaws as wide as they could go. He licked his lips and sniffed the air. Aziraphale was on the couch. There was no room for him to sneak up and snuggle in by his side like he usually would. No room to do a few circles and settle in, hoping his person would be too engrossed in a book to notice and shoo him off. Harry heaved a sigh.</p><p>There was no room for Harry on the couch because the couch and Aziraphale were covered by the impossibly long arms and legs of Bentley's person.</p><p>Harry pawed at his favorite rug a few times. The fibers were starting to come out in just the right places. He made a circle, then settled on his side with his belly to the fire. He blinked slowly as his mind drifted toward the place. There were always rabbits in the place he went when he closed his eyes, and things to smell. Aziraphale was there sometimes, too, with sandwiches. </p><p>Lately, Bentley was there too, helping him chase the rabbits. When he went to the place he was as fast as she was. They ran, and Harry's ears flapped in the breeze, which was never too cold in the place behind his eyelids.</p><p>From the sofa, the humans started making noises that Harry found mildly concerning. He sniffed but didn’t smell anything amiss. Their paws were moving around each other's bodies in a way only humans could manage. Harry yawned.</p><p>Bentley, who’d been sniffing the floor of the kitchen — as if they’d possibly missed a morsel of food, silly girl — padded over to the fire and did a few circles of her own on the rug. Eventually, their combined efforts would raise the pile of the rug to the proper level for a dog's bed. She settled with her head on his flank.</p><p>The noises from the humans increased in volume and intensity. </p><p>But Bentley’s body was soft and comforting, pressed against his back. And the fire’s warmth felt pleasant on his belly. Harry sighed again, content. He’d go to the place behind his eyelids with the rabbits and endless sandwiches and sunshine, trusting that Bentley would keep watch over his person — their people — and tell him if anything interesting happened.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomed-spectacles">come say hi on tumblr!</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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